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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29749482">Journalistic Integrity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/southofordinary/pseuds/southofordinary'>southofordinary</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adora is Whipped (She-Ra), Adora isn't She-Ra, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Real World, Barista Catra, Catra is a bitch, Disaster Lesbians, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Glimbow, Lesbian Disaster Adora (She-Ra), Multi, Mutual Pining, Rating: PG13, Slow Burn, Sweet, adora challenges catra to be nice, adora loves it, catradora, college age, college town, glimmer and adora are roommates, jorunalsit adora, lots of fluff, very very sweet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:27:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29749482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/southofordinary/pseuds/southofordinary</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"So it's a challenge, then?" </p><p>"Absolutely." Adora's eyes narrowed with mirth, crossing her arms and leaning her head down towards the smaller woman. "If you can go a week without being rude to a single person", she paused for dramatic effect, "and that INCLUDES me- then I'll take my bad review of the shop down and write a new one." </p><p>"How the hell are you gonna know what I do at work?" Catra countered, annoyed, stepping in closer and causing Adora to fumble backward. Too close. She's way too pretty up that close. </p><p>"I guess I'll just have to spend the whole week with you to make sure you play nice." </p><p>"Fine", Catra scoffed, rolling her eyes in a way that made Adora's stomach roll in turn.  "I can't wait. Watching me 24/7 should be fun for you, anyways." She bit her lip, laughing at the flush of Adora's cheeks, and turned on her heel. </p><p>Adora watched her walk away until she was out of sight, maybe a little too intently. Shit. She may have bitten off more than she could chew.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adora/Catra (She-Ra)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Journalistic Integrity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> It’s simple, once you get the hang of it. Waking up at the crack of dawn still isn’t ideal, but you sort of get used to that too.  </em>
</p><p>Catra swatted the sleep out of her eyes and blinked, squinting at her phone screen. The big white digits glowing far too brightly read “5:12 am”. Great. Her legs jostled slightly as the bus she was on hit a hole in the road. One arm hung lazily above, lithe fingers wrapped around a cold metal pole. This early, there was never anyone else on the bus, so if she wanted Catra could just sit down anywhere. She’d made that mistake once already though, and had immediately fallen back asleep once she was no longer standing. </p><p>She’d woken up two hours later, on the other side of town. Rachel had nearly fired her on her first day for that one. But, for whatever reason, she’d chosen not to. So Catra kept her shitty job, for better or for worse. </p><p>Despite the nascent autumn just reaching below the heat of summer, the chill in the air still went to her bones this early in the morning. The sun wouldn’t come up for another hour or so, but when it did it would bring with it the warmth that Catra couldn’t enjoy stuck inside the shop. She was never great with the cold. Bundled to high hell in a scarf and winter coat, she crossed her arms tight to try and create a bit more heat. </p><p>Adding to the chill was the rain, which had lazily dribbled along since the day before. Catra had hoped for a clear morning, but was unlucky. She enjoyed watching the rain from indoors- but hated walking in it. </p><p>Popping headphones in, she thanked the bus driver with a nod and hopped off at a deserted stop. Huddling under the shelter for a moment to prepare herself, Catra jumped up and down a few times to warm up her legs. A satisfying <em> crack </em> of her head from side to side and some arm stretches, and she was ready. </p><p>The shop was only a few blocks away- she could make it in under a minute, but by the time she arrived, she’d be soaked. The only option to avoid complete annihilation by the rain was to run there. Mornings like this, Catra hated the most. Rain. Cold. And worst of all- exercise. </p><p>It took her roughly thirty seconds to reach the front door. Frantic hands thrust into deep coat pockets, searching for the massive ring of keys within. Flipping through, shaking with cold, she closed around the one she needed, thrust it into the lock, and threw open the door, slamming it shut behind her. She stayed there for a moment, back pressed against the heavy wooden doors, huffing and heaving for warm, dry air. Once her breathing had settled, Catra raked her hands through her long, messy, and now wet tresses and set about preparing to open the shop. </p><p>Routine took over, and Catra allowed herself to go on autopilot as she zoned out to the loud, angry music blaring at top volume through her headphones. Flip the chairs, set them out, wipe down tables. </p><p>She walked back into the kitchen, going to the dish station to retrieve the load of silverware run just before closing the night prior. Sorting them out, she neatly returned them to their respective cups at the service station up front. Refill the sugar, the splenda, fresh creamer. Move stacks of mugs. Move stacks of to-go cups. Fire up the machines. Grind beans. Clean bathrooms. </p><p>And finally, as the hour drew to a close and she flipped the sign from closed to a bright, neon <em> Open </em>, Catra sat down on the stool behind the register at the back of the shop, freshly brewed mug in hand, and sighed into the rich, warm cup of coffee prepared just how she liked it. </p><p>
  <em> Alright- time for another day of this shit.  </em>
</p><p>_________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Adora…  </em>
</p><p>Adora. </p><p>“ADORA!” </p><p>“wAUgh!” A messy mop of hair rose abruptly from the pillow it had been resting peacefully atop and promptly smacked into something hard. </p><p>“Owwww…” A sharp whine came from whatever she’d hit. </p><p>Adora slowly blinked her eyes open, hand raising to press into the new bruise she was sure to be sporting on her forehead. In front of her was her mirror image, doing the same thing. Her roommate, Glimmer, was rubbing her temples furiously as if to remove the force of the impact from them via massage. She was grumbling something under her breath to herself, about hard heads and tiny brains. </p><p>“Sorry, Glim”, still half asleep, Adora’s voice rumbled low. “Are you okay?” </p><p>“Yeah, whatever, just get up already. I was trying to get you to wake up- did you forget to set an alarm again?” </p><p>Adora looked around. Noticed the fact that there was light coming through the window. Noticed how Glimmer was already dressed for class, pink hair pulled into pigtail braids. That’s strange. Adora was usually already gone by the time Glimmer got up for class. </p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>“Fuuuck, am I late again?” Adora whined, leaping from under the safety of her warm comforter and immediately regretting it as the chill of the rainy morning sent a shiver down her spine. She hopped around frantically, pulling on jeans and a jacket. Adora grabbed a brush, tried raking it through her hair, gave up, and tied it into a thick ponytail behind her head. </p><p>“Bow’s gonna kill me! I told him I’d do that review today, and he’s expecting a draft in like, an hour.” She whimpered as Glimmer, helpful as ever, threw her laptop in her bag and started packing her books in. “<em> Tanksh </em>!” Adora yelled over her shoulder, toothbrush hanging from her mouth as she used both hands to pull on her shoes. </p><p>“Take my umbrella!” Glimmer yelled just before Adora ran out the door. “It’s raining! Be careful!” She grabbed the handle of her baby pink pocket umbrella and chucked it at Adora’s head. Glimmer didn’t have the best coordination, but thankfully Adora did, and she caught it with her free hand just before it smacked her in the face. Thanking Glimmer once more, Adora ran down the hall, past the elevator (too slow) and towards the back staircase that no one used. </p><p>This was not the first time Adora had slept in late. Thankfully, Bow was her friend and usually didn’t ride her too hard about it. As long as she turned in her articles on time, he always said he didn’t care if she missed meetings or didn’t plan ahead. But he was still her superior- and if she didn’t get that draft to him on time he would <em> have </em>to penalize her in some way. </p><p>Writing for the university’s paper had its perks- specifically for Adora. The paper’s budget covered her tabs when she went into the “field” to conduct her “research”. She called it that, when people asked, to sound more sophisticated. She was a journalist at heart, after all. Unfortunately, the articles she wrote weren’t exactly groundbreaking. Adora was the paper’s resident food critic. An easy job nearly anyone could do, but one which required constant work. It was the position that the staff threw newbies in to test their grit. </p><p>Food columnists had to wake up at the crack of dawn to get to coffee shops and breakfast joints, because everything is the freshest right as they open. They had the strictest deadlines on article drafts, too- if you were called in to report on a restaurant at 8 am, the editors would be expecting a completed draft of your full critique by noon. If you didn’t get it in on time, harsh penalties were in place. Do that more than once, and you’re likely to lose your spot on the team. </p><p>The editor in charge of the food and entertainment portion of the paper was Bow. One of her best friends, but also her direct superior. He was a sweetheart and had a difficult time doling out punishments, especially to Adora. But she’d already fucked up with another late report earlier that month, and if she missed this deadline, even Bow wouldn’t go easy on her. </p><p>So, at 11 am on a Monday morning, Adora found herself sprinting across campus through heavy rain towards the busses that went downtown. </p><p>By the time she’d reached the coffee shop she was supposed to be reviewing, it was 11:15. She had about 45 minutes to order something, observe the restaurant staff and general service quality, and write a concise, entertaining article on her opinions. And by this time on a weekday, the place was likely to be packed. Adora wasn’t even sure if she’d be able to sit down anywhere. She might have to stand with her laptop open and type with one hand, which would definitely not do any wonders for her writing speed. </p><p>Adora pulled on the heavy wooden doors to the shop. It was settled in the middle of a row of well-decorated stores on a busy street downtown. The buildings were old, but beautiful, and had a sort of art-deco architecture that went well with the warm tones of the shop’s interior that she could see through frosted glass windows. </p><p>Heads turned when she walked inside. Adora was quite tall, and so people often turned to look when she passed by them. But her height was not the issue- she looked like a wet dog. Between her abrupt awakening, random outfit choice, and the rain, she wasn't exactly the picture of grace. Flyaways from her ponytail went in every direction, many dripping wet and plastered to her face. Her clothes were practically soaked through. Glimmer’s pink umbrella, forgotten in her panic, was shoved into her bag and remained unused. Flushing crimson, she felt the gazes of the shop’s patrons drilling holes through her back as she made a beeline for the bathroom. Mercifully, the restrooms were close to the front entrance, and Adora could duck in to straighten herself up before too many people noticed how much of a mess she looked. </p><p>There was only so much she could fix, though. She let her hair fall from its ponytail, smoothing back the flyaway strands and leaving it undone. She’d always worn her hair long, most days tied up to keep the thick locks back from her face. But at the beginning of the semester, after much pressure from Glimmer, Adora had caved and allowed her roommate to cut her hair short. It fell above her shoulders now, grazing the nape of her long neck and ending bluntly just below her chin. Glimmer had been right- the cut suited her strong jaw and sharp features well. But she still wasn’t used to the way it fell out of place when she tried to tie it up. </p><p>Slowly, tentatively, Adora peeked her head out from the restroom door a few minutes later. Incredibly, all the patrons seemed to have forgotten about her dramatic entrance and she was free to peruse the shop for open seats without the threat of being watched or judged. Locating a spot against the back wall of the building, she threw down her bag on the only armchair which remained empty in the whole shop, thereby claiming it as her own. </p><p>With her throne acquired, Adora could finally go up to the counter and do what she came to. Get some stupid coffee and write a stupid review. She honestly liked coffee shops less than any other establishment she had to critique. While she loved trying new and exciting foods and drinks in restaurants and bars, she’d never much cared about what got her caffeinated, just the caffeine content therein. Honestly, the campus Starbucks was her typical source of energy in the mornings. If she was in a hurry, she’d grab an energy drink from a vending machine instead.  Which, to your average coffee shop patron downtown, was the greatest of sins. Adora couldn’t care less. Anything to stay awake through droning lectures.</p><p>The counter was broad, covering the entire back half of the room. Rich stained wood-paneled the front, and a slab of smooth concrete countertop covered it from end to end. How very industrial. Very trendy. The shop was warmly lit, albeit slightly dim. The owner obviously didn’t believe in overhead, fluorescent lights; scattered around the store were a hodgepodge of mismatched table lamps and wall sconces. The walls were painted some dark color, either a deep grey or green- it was hard to tell, honestly. Not bad ambiance, but just a little gloomier than Adora would’ve preferred. She always favored bright, naturally lit spaces with lots of room to breathe. The shop was cramped (some would call it cozy- Adora would not), and dark, and felt sort of like a cave carved right into a center block of the city. </p><p>Behind the counter, open shelves littered with carafes, ceramic mugs, paper to-go cups, and about a hundred bags of coffee beans for patrons to purchase and take home lined the walls. The slow rumble of grinders and the gentle flow of several slow drips running at once settled Adora’s nerves a bit- the sounds felt familiar. They reminded her of the print room for the newspaper. </p><p>Also behind the counter stood the barista currently on shift. Looking around confirmed Adora’s suspicions- this poor employee was running the whole shop by themselves, in the middle of a weekday morning rush. Adora did not envy them. </p><p>“Can I help you?” A slightly exasperated voice sounded from the barista. It was rougher than Adora had expected- they were quite small, and looked sort of delicate. But despite the strained tone, there was a sort of musical lilt to their inflection. It was an interesting voice, for sure. </p><p>The person in line ahead of Adora, a young man who was probably also a student, judging by the bag slung over his shoulder, shrugged. </p><p>“I dunno. Why don’t you tell me the specials, sweetheart?” One of his brows upturned, clearly trying to elicit a response from the barista. He was likely looking for something more positive than what he received.</p><p>Adora caught a twitch of the barista’s eyebrow- a momentary slip which, to her credit, she did the best to cover. Breathing deep, she looked once more at the man in front of her.</p><p>“Our house blend is always discounted, but we also have a “Mocha Monday” special running currently. Other than that, everything is regular price.” </p><p>“Hmm”, The customer took another step forward, now clearly encroaching on the personal space of the barista as she had to physically step back from the counter that he was now leaning across. “I heard you guys have some more specials, if you know what I mean. Cute baristas, for one.” He made a painful attempt at a half-smile. If it was supposed to be endearing, it had failed miserably. He looked more like he was having a stroke. </p><p>The barista’s eyes narrowed, clearly unamused. “Sir, why don’t you take a look at the board behind me if you want to know what we have. That is, if you’re able to read.”  </p><p>A small crack began to chip in the man’s smile, but he regained it quickly and continued.</p><p>“Hey, baby, no need to be like that. I’m sure I’ve got plenty to offer you besides literacy.” </p><p>“And”, he continued, his intruding eyes slowly parading up and down her front, “You sure have a lot to offer too.” </p><p>The barista’s face flushed slightly. Not out of embarrassment, but from anger. She stepped forward once more, now mere inches from the man as he remained sprawled across the counter. Her eyes then widened, and she blinked a few times, letting her lower lip pout out a bit. Playing dumb. </p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sir. Do you want something other than coffee? I can get you a pastry, if you’d like.” Adora knew what she was doing- the barista was trying to goad him into slipping up. If she played dumb, he had to be more direct, which would inevitably end badly. </p><p>“Uh,” The creep continued, laughing a bit to shake off his confusion at her quick change in demeanor, “Y’know what? A pastry wouldn’t be bad. Maybe something sweet? Like you.” </p><p>Her eyes narrowed. He was falling into the trap. </p><p>“Or maybe, I could just take you instead, hm? C’mon, drop the bitchy act, hon. Don’t you want somebody to take you out of this place?” </p><p>“Honestly, yeah. I’d love to be put out of my misery.” She smiled sweetly. </p><p>“Can somebody shoot me?” The barista shouted into the shop, and leaned fully over the counter, knocking the man back a step from her space. All eyes in the immediate vicinity turned, confused, towards the two at the counter. </p><p>The man’s strange, smiley facade fell immediately. His face flushed. He backed up further, standing at his full height and puffing out his chest. He clearly was done trying to flirt- now he was aiming to intimidate. </p><p>Adora didn’t usually get involved in other people’s conversations, especially if her interference might make the situation worse. But this was getting out of hand- this guy clearly wasn’t here for coffee, and was bordering on harassment. She was stepping forward, arm out, ready to pull on the man’s shoulder and get his attention, when the barista spoke again. </p><p>She smiled, slowly, and Adora caught a glint of teeth before her lips closed once more in a tight line. Shifting her weight into one hip, she crossed her arms and dropped her shoulders. Everything about her demeanor said ‘<em> good luck, pal.’ </em> Clearly, she was challenging him. </p><p>“Listen, <em> Sir.” </em> The way she said the word made it sound like a slur. “Obviously, you’re lost. There’s a pet shop a few doors down, maybe I should give them a call? Let them know one of their <em> dogs </em>got out.” The smile had returned, mirthful and unyielding. </p><p>As the customer began sputtering angrily, the barista raised her brows in question, and Adora noticed her eyes- they were different colors. What was that called again? Heterochromia. The barista, though small, was clearly not delicate. And her eyes, split a bright cyan and a hazel so gold it looked yellow, gave her an edge which was almost unnatural. Like she was some sort of powerful mythical creature and this guy was just a dumb human she was toying with. </p><p>“Look, buddy”, she continued, mercilessly. “Either hurry up and order something or get the hell out of my shop. So I’m gonna start this conversation over and ask again, and this time either you give me a normal answer like a person, or you walk away like a<em> little bitch dog </em>.” </p><p>“Can I help you?” </p><p>By this time, other patrons had begun avidly watching the incident unfolding at the counter and were whispering and staring intensely. Clearly not wanting to hurt his pride any more than he already had, the man chose to order a regular coffee and hurriedly exited the shop as soon as he’d paid for it. Adora assumed he didn’t want everyone watching to think he was a little bitch. He most certainly was. </p><p>She expected the barista to breathe a sigh of relief, now that he was gone. To maybe start a small conversation with her, and for them both to express their annoyance at the situation with some small talk. What she didn’t expect was for the girl behind the counter to then turn to her with the same exasperated face that she’d used for the gross man-pig before her. The words came out exactly the same as the last time- with a bite of venom behind them. </p><p>“Can I help you?”</p><p>“Hey”, Adora said, laughing awkwardly a little in response to the harsh tone, “I’m not gonna ask you out. I just want coffee.” </p><p>“Oh, congrats. You have enough common sense to want something we actually sell.” The barista retorted, somewhat rudely. </p><p>Adora was taken aback. She’d assumed that the curt tone of voice and generally rough word choice of this woman was reserved for jerks like that guy, but she was treating Adora exactly the same! She hadn’t even done anything! </p><p>“Hello?” The barista continued, cocking her head and letting a long mane of dark waves fall around her shoulder from the ponytail she wore it in. “Do you speak English? <em> What do you want?” </em>She mocked as if she were talking to a five-year-old. </p><p>“Uh,” Adora sputtered. ‘I… uh, what?” </p><p>The barista rolled her eyes, quite blatantly. </p><p>“Coffee. Cream. Thanks.” She finally choked out. Her face was flushed bright red, and she was both embarrassed and slightly hurt by the rudeness of this barista. And like that, the torment ended. The barista spun on her heel and began to prepare her drink. No words. </p><p>Adora also had no words. </p><p>Who the hell works in customer service with an attitude like that? </p><p>Adora put her head down, staring at the floor so as not to make eye contact with anyone. She didn’t want to embarrass herself any more than she already had. She swiped her card to pay, huffing indignantly when the girl behind the counter pushed her drink across to her. And, once more, she looked at the barista before turning to walk away. </p><p>The first time, she’d been much further away, and hadn’t really gotten a good look. But now, about a foot from her face, Adora was struck with just how beautiful this girl’s eyes were. They were almost ethereal. Wide and thick-lashed, set atop high cheekbones. Both the blue and the gold jumped out at her like headlights. And, despite her jeering mere moments earlier, those pretty eyes narrowed in a genuine smile as the barista looked towards Adora one last time before turning to the next customer. In a split second, her exasperated tone and indifferent expression returned. If she hadn’t been staring straight at her, Adora would have completely missed that smile. </p><p>Damn. What a smile. </p>
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